Murals
by WaywardQuasar
Summary: Solas and Lavellan reflecting on each other after one late night painting. Spoilers for the game (obviously!)


His eyes were starting to strain, painting purely by candlelight. Though they naturally picked up more light in the darkness then any human's, it was still difficult to envision the patterns of geometrical shapes by this time. The library above had been dark for hours and even Leliana in the rookery seemed to have called it a night.

A slight snuffle snapped him out of his reverie. His companion, sitting with her back against a section of unpainted wall, had fallen asleep. Solas smiled softly, carefully cleaned his paint brush before setting it out to dry, then shifted silently to sit beside her. While the candlelight had been insufficient to continue work, it bathed her face in a soft golden glow and allowed him to see her and bask in every detail.

Ellana's hair was a deep mahogany, and unusually was not to be found in the tight, plaited knot that she favoured. Instead, it streamed over her shoulders, several glowing red strands slightly obscuring her face. Solas reached out and gently brushed the pieces away, savouring the slight tightness in his chest that intensified every time his fingers made contact with her skin. His eyes focussed in on her vallaslin. A dry, melancholic chuckle escaped from his throat before he realised. It pained him to see her face marred with such vulgar markings - that the Dalish had preserved this part of his culture above others caused a sick, rotting feeling in his heart, but he could not deny that the choice of markings seemed almost destined.

Mythal would have loved her. Her calm, measured approach to challenges interspersed with quiet wit that seemed to pass over the heads of many she encountered, and flashes of temper that caught the unwary by surprise.

His fingers traced the raised lines gently. Underneath his fingertips a slightly furrowed brow, prominent cheekbones and a worrying tightness around the eyes.

"Ma vhenan", a murmured caress left his lips. She was called so many different things: inquisitor, herald, leader, hero, saviour... people forgot that under it all there was just Ellana. He knew the sensation and the pressure of being visible to so many but actually seen by so few.

To the world she presented a careful image - a mage who proved that mages could be trusted and relied upon; an elf who fought on behalf of all but let no one forget her heritage; and a herald who was chosen by Andraste not for her connections to the chantry, but for her courage and bravery. But Solas saw Ellana.

Ellana who had become a regular sight, sat here on the scaffolding in this room, quietly asking questions and always ready with a teasing response. Ellana who meticulously studied the arcane, the histories of Thedas and the working of the Grand Game because she hated to feel unprepared and yet what could prepare her for this role? Ellana who had stilled his staff with just a hand on his arm and his name on her lips.

"Solas...?" There it was again, though this time his name was a sleep-stained caress.

"Ir abelas lethallin", he shifted slightly so her head was resting on his shoulder, "I did not intend to wake you. Go back to sleep."

Her only response was a continuation of the soft breathing felt through the material of his sleeve. Solas smiled to himself and lent back to rest his head against the wall. It made things difficult, her being so close, so very real. But he must admit he was fascinated, nothing had drawn his attention so fully for a very long time.

With the ghost of a smile still on his lips, he closed his eyes. Her body warmth lulled him to sleep and into the fade. Perhaps she would surprise him yet again and he would see her there.

-O-O-O-O-O-

Ellana could smell turpentine. She wrinkled her nose at the now familiar smell and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Solas had moved down from the scaffolding and was intently adding dark shadows to his most recent wall painting. She didn't think he had even noticed her wake.

Silently, she leant back against the wall and looked down at him. Back in Haven she'd just been so glad to have another elf around. When she and Cassandra had run into him on the way up to the Breach it was as if a quiet sigh of relief had gone through her body.

Though, she admitted to herself, Varric had also contributed significantly to her feeling less panicked about the whole situation. The dwarf's quips and gentle kindness (though he'd never call it such) had grounded her throughout this endeavour.

Below her, Solas bent to clean his brush, and Ellana leant forward to watch. She loved his hands. The were lithe yet strong and she always enjoyed watching them work. Here, where they created fantastical pieces of art so painstaking drawn out with fine details only visible close up, or out in the field where they healed, they fought and they offered much needed support.

He paused below her, becoming unnaturally still like a animal who has sensed movement, and then looked up catching her eye immediately. It was rare she was able to surprise him, she thought, he seemed to have a supernatural sense for detecting and observing things that others might have missed. Smiling she stretched out her stiffened muscles - the scaffolding was not the most forgiving resting place, and slowly climbed down the ladder to stand beside him.

"Lethallin," he greeted her quietly. She smiled in response moving to stand beside him, shoulders brushing. His fingers tangled slightly with hers as she turned to admire his work.

"It's beautiful, Solas. I still don't know how you create such things."

"I have always painted. Recorded events that are happening around me. And this, the inquisition... you, are certainly worthy subjects." He turned to her and leaving one hand holding hers, he raised the other to bury in her hair and pull her in for a quick, sweet kiss. She loved his kisses. The usually calm and thoughtful apostate seemed to lose control when her lips met his.

Solas pulled away, then began to chuckle as his eyes refocused on her face.

"What-?"

"Ar lath ma, vhenan. It is nothing. You should head back to your quarters, there are still a few hours 'til the sun rises proper, and you need to be rested." He leant down to steal one more kiss before turning back to his mural... still smirking slightly to himself.

Ellana slowly wandered the halls of Skyhold back to her quarters. She really could do with a couple more hours rest. It was likely that she would be joining excursions in the next few days and rest could take a while to arrive when in the unknown.

When she arrived at her quarters, however, she paused as her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. One eyebrow quirked, she leant in to examine the deep blue smudge of paint left on her cheek am disappearing into her thick hair. That is what he had been smiling at, the sod. But she found herself smiling too as her hand mimicked his caress as she touched the smeared mark.


End file.
